Like an old friend, my pen awaits me. It never asks me why. Yet it's there where I left it, ready to take up the conversation with my next word, my next sentence. I lovely consistency it lays the ink on the page in translation of my thoughts so perfectly, so plainly.Like an old friend, my pen doesn't need me to edit my feelings as they leave my heart and find their way down to my hand. It make not a sound, no snicker, no judgment of the words or the way I arrange them to expess my creativity, my anger, or my deepfelt need to help when help is the farthest thing from all the rools I can call to my command.
Like an old friend, my pen awaits me. I write my name and I stare at it.
It holds my secrets safe. I hold it in my hand.
--me strauss Letting me be
6 comments:
Pens really are like that, aren't they? I have several special pens that each have a particular use. I seek them out, depending on what it is I want to write and how I want to write it. My favorite one is a plain Bic stick pen, black ink, fine point. When I want to do my best handwriting and share my deepest thoughts, I seek her out.
Yes, pens are very good friends. Somehow they can be easier to attach to. I usually have one that is designated as my "magic" pen. It gets misplaced but always shows up again. When eventually it tires of me, another takes its place and has that same quality of not getting lost for very long. I like that about pens.
I think they keep by thoughts in their barrel too.
One day I hope to learn to listen as well as my pen; to listen without judgment, without agenda, to simply be, be there, always ready to be held and to hold, steady and consistent and reliable. I love pens, and after this post Liz, I love them even more.
All the best my friend. :-)
Hi Tree,
Pens are easy to love, arne't they/ :)
The connection we have with our pens is quite sacred, isn't it?
They never ask why and always seem to listen like a best friend.
~m
Sacred is the word for it, Michael. :)
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